The Wayward Heron
by KJcamps
Summary: An alternate timeline to the Wheel of Time. In this world, the events of the Eye of the World ended abruptly before they could truly begin. The death of a companion throws The Wheel off balance, Rand never quite makes it out of the Two Rivers and many of the characters we love were forced onto path's of their own, a base reflection of their true destinies.
1. Chapter One - A Beginning

**The Wayward Heron**

_An alternate timeline to the Wheel of Time. _

In this world, the events of the Eye of the World ended abruptly before they could truly begin. The death of a companion throws The Wheel off balance, Rand never quite makes it out of the Two Rivers and many of the characters we love were forced onto path's of their own, a base reflection of their true destinies.

The world moved on without the Dragon, twenty years passing since the events of Winternight. The Seanchan land to the west and establish a foothold on the continent, the White Tower rises to oppose the invaders while the rest of the nations try to remain neutral. The two powerful forces eventually find themselves locked in a stalemate, with armies and channelers poised along the border between West and East.

The Aiel remained in the waste, with no Car'a'carn to lead them.

The Dark One, with no Dragon to oppose him and in no rush to break free from his prison and spur a unification of the armies of the light, spent those decades further building the forces of Darkness. Now, with the blight filled to breaking point with Shadowspawn and the nations of man splintered -their focus upon one another rather than the imminent threat looming to the north- the Dark One begins his campaign to crush humanity.

Moiraine and Siuan's carefully laid plans have come to nothing, the prophecy which they witnessed having seemingly failed. Some few devoted Aes Sedai pour over scrolls and research, trying to understand why the Dragon has not yet risen to fulfill the prophecies.

One such Aes Sedai stumbles upon an astonishing truth, that the Dragon had risen twenty years before, unknown to the world, and unknown to the world the savior of the light had passed from this cycle of the pattern.

With no hope of surviving the imminent war to come, a seemingly impossible plan is hatched. Right the wrong, return the Wheel to its path.

Save the Dragon.

_This project began as an outlet, yet over the course of its writing it has become something I believe worth pursuing. Thank you to those who read the initial version, this version has been edited slightly and more content added to the beginning chapters to provide a more solid foundation for the rest of the story._

_Thank you for reading._

**Chapter One**

The wind blew across the Mountains of Mist, pulling fresh snow along in its wake to dance along the grey stone. It blew onwards, down the mountain and into the forest of pine which bent dutifully to its sovereignty. A few of the trees' toughened needles blew free to accompany the wind as it tore down through the dense branches of the forest and into the valley of the Two Rivers, passing empty fields which should have held crops of wheat and barley to the height of a man's boots by now.

Farmers looked up from their work attending cows, pulling trowels behind stubborn donkeys, their keen affinity with the land left them nervous. The land was being as stubborn as those donkeys; crops refusing to take root, the edge of winter hanging on for far too long, and wolves had been reported at the edges of many farms, something not seen for a generation.

Onwards the wind blew through the small village of Emond's Field, here aiding the good-wives and house mistresses in their washing lines; drying moisture from the carefully soaked garments that had been pulled from storage trunks in preparation for this night. Bel Tine had come to the Two Rivers, and despite the chill in the air and absence of greenery, none of it's people had any intention of putting off the celebrations.

The wind carried the scents of their kitchens, where meals were already in preparation for the feast that night. Meat pies and salted caramel tarts, steamed vegetables covered in soured cream. Young girls and boys playing nearby would catch the scent on the wind, their excitement and anticipation for the nights festivities heightened as stomachs grumbled.

Past the Newspring Inn the wind traveled, built upon the foundation of the old Inn, once named the Winspring Inn. Words the wind took as well, there were rumors of a gleeman in the village, traveled down from Baerlon at the bequest of the village council. The village had not known of a visit from one such in many years, not since the night of terrors that had burnt half the village to the ground, including the old Inn, and claimed the lives of dozens of families. Spoken in even more hushed tones were those superstitious rumors that a gleeman was ill luck, that it foreshadowed another disaster such as that Winternight, a night that had grown in infamy in the Two Rivers, now named the Bloodlight Night. Many a door had had its surface marred with the dragon fang for years after the night of blood and flame, and the village council was quick to quell any rising evidence of a return to those mistrusting times.

Through the streets the wind blew, passing out beyond the last houses and past those few travelers from outlying farms that were slowly making their way into the village for Bel Tine, rustling the cloaks and thatched hats of women seated in carts pulled by their husbands oxen. Past them it blew, its strength beginning to wane as it came to a small farm on the very outskirts of the Westwood. In through the small, neatly kept yard, it finally came to rest as a soft mix of all these things at the feet of a young man with dark brown hair and grey eyes.

The youth sat upon a stool he'd dragged out into the yard, mending the head of a scythe that had come loose. He was a tall young man, tall not just for his age but tall for this part of the world too. That height he had inherited from his father, along with his eyes. From his mother, his darker features, dark brown hair that he kept trimmed, though if not exactly neatly then well enough for what could be accomplished with a pair of shearing scissors and a badly silvered mirror.

He sat now, eyes intent on his work, though his mind was elsewhere, occupied once again with the strange figure he had seen a few days before, a figure that had sent a shiver through his spine and left a chill through his chest.

It had seemed to be a man upon a horse, cloaked in a dark hood that fell almost to his ankles. The figure had stared at him a moment before reigning in the horse and galloping off into the distance. There had been a feeling to that stare, an anger, a hatred for everyone and everything.

Kaelin shook his head, shaking off the odd feeling. With a shrug he returned to his work, slowly mending the haft of a scythe that had come worn with age. He had no business with strange men on horses, odd as they were, his business lay with finishing his work so he could return to his books. His life was simple, and he was generally content. An orphan, he lived life on the farm that had once been his father's, and his fathers before him. He had inherited the land at a young age and had spent his life in solitude, excepting some few, annoyingly stubborn neighbours.

"Kaelin!" A bull throated voice boomed over the rustle of the dying wind. Kaelin sighed, recognizing his neighbour; Ewin.

Ewin Finnigar was a tall man in his middle years who lived on the neighboring farm to the east. He had tried a few times, unsuccessfully, to act as Kaelin's uncle. A shoulder to cry on, a male figure to admire and aspire to. Kaelin needed none of these things but their relationship had found equilibrium in recent years. Though not close the two had become almost friends.

"Aye Ewin, I see you."

The tall man walked up to the well-tended wooden fence that encircled Kaelin's small yard, resting hairy forearms and grinning at the younger man. "Well now, I'm not as young as I used to be and certainly can't claim to be a man of fashion, but I'd be mightily surprised if the latest trends involved shite covered boots and a stained tunic."

Kaelin looked down at his clothes, shrugging. "They seem appropriate for the present company."

Ewin chuckled. "Aye that they may be, but not for any of the fine young ladies in the village. They might forgive a young man treading on their toes during a dance but I'll assure you there'll be no smiles if you get any of that shite on their pretty shoes."

It was Kaelin's turn to chuckle. "What do you want old man, you know I'm not going."

"Aye, I assumed you'd not be, but I thought I might check, just in case you had decided to join the world of the living. I've Nancy and the girls already settled in the cart, was just checking to see if you'd change your mind about this year? There's rumor of a gleeman appearance."

Kaelin paused, eyes widening despite himself. _A gleeman. _He'd never seen a gleeman.

"I don't think so, Ewin. I've too much to do on the farm as it is." It was a thin excuse, but Kaelin bent back to his work on the haft. How long had it been since he had attended Bel Tine? Once, years ago, Ewin had managed to convince the younger Kaelin to attend. It had been a disaster.

Full of nerves at the crowded celebrations he had kept to the edges of the festivities, content with spectating rather than joining in. Those who did notice the tall young man who kept to the edges of the firelight recognized him instantly and chose to avoid him anyway. His family had long held a reputation as oddities within the Two Rivers. His mother's unexplained death and the subsequent degradation of his father in the public eye had begun the decay of the family name. His father's mysterious demise years later, coupled with Kaelin's own reclusive nature, had sealed that reputation.

And yet despite all this there were some, like Ewin and his wife Nancy, who would not be put off. Liseyra had also been one of those rare few. He still blushed at the memory of his first and only encounter with Liseyra Annlien, the cooper's daughter .

With an effort Kaelin pulled his mind from that memory, forcing his attention back to his work. The scythe blades head had become loose, Kaelin was carefully tapping a sliver of pine that he had fashioned into the groove between blade and haft, stabilizing it's hold.

Ewin shrugged. "I assumed as much, but then stranger things have happened. One of these days lad, you're going to have to put down those books and take an interest in the world or you'll find yourself an old man, full of regrets and not a soul for miles who'll be willing to listen to you prattle on about the old days, mark my words."

Kaelin chuckled again. "I thought you'd be proud to see me follow in your footsteps, old man."

"Well now you can dispense with the 'old man' if it please you, and I've a wife and children to listen to my prattle, not counting your charming self." The man gave him a wink, Kaelin rolled his eyes.

Ewin sighed then, his face becoming serious.

"Now listen lad-" He said, glancing out towards the surrounding fields. "I've not dropped by purely to bask in the joy of your company, these are troubled times and mischief is afoot, mark my words. There's been accounts of a man on horseback wandering around the countryside, staring at farms from a distance, spooking good honest folk. I'm wondering if you've seen sight of him yourself?"

Kaelin felt that chill return, like a knife skimming across bone. "Aye, I've seen a him a few times, he comes and goes."

Ewin nodded "Might be some troublemaker down from Taren Ferry. Hate to be leaving the farm with him around. I've spoken with a few of the others, Elam and Jac from Edgewood Farm have seen him too. Now, I've locked up the farm as best I can, and Nancy thinks I'm being overcautious but with us all gone tonight I'm worried. I'd really appreciate it if you would keep an ear out. I'm not asking for you to hike over and check every hour or so..." Though he did cock an eyebrow at that, only to nod acceptingly at Kaelin's snort. "Anyhow, if you hear anything, would you mind just checking on over? Weather's been enough of a bane lately not to add a troublemaker making off with one of the cows, or stealing my best tools in the mix."

"Aye, Ewin, if I hear anything I'll come take a look, but I'm not fighting off some Taren Ferry man on horseback who's just helped himself to your best scythe."

"Just take that bow of yours." Ewin said, glancing over at the longbow that lay propped against the fence in the corner of the yard. Kaelin had taken to keeping the thing nearby, though he would stubbornly refuse to admit that it's presence gave him comfort.

"I'm not going to shoot an arrow through a man either, Ewin."

"Never asked you too lad," He said, scratching at his balding head. "Just might scare him off is all."

Kaelin grunted.

"Alright, well I'll thank you for keeping that eye out, you have a good night with your books, I'll bring you back something tasty, if I remember!"

"Nothing with raisins in it." Kaelin called to the tall man's back. He turned once, giving a wave.

Kaelin was lost in thought as he completed the repairs to the scythe. It was rare for him to feel lonely, he preferred his own company, but Bel Tine was one such time that always left the young man feeling rather melancholy. His mind peeled back the years to the one Bel Tine he remembered attending, a bittersweet memory. More bitter than sweet, he admitted wryly.

He had been standing at the edges of the festivities, the bonfire had been enormous and song had filled the village square. The villagers, young and old, had been dancing around the fire, their shadows reflecting upon the houses, laughter and cheers accompanied the efforts of those few who could handle a fiddle or a flute. Kaelin had been handed a mug of ale and had begun to feel his nerves calm with modest sips as he watched the enjoyment of the others.

It was there that Liseyra had approached him. She was about his age -a few summers shy of adolescence- at least a head shorter than himself with blue eyes and golden hair, both of which seemed to reflect the firelight. That hair and eyes were rare in the village, her family having moved to Emond's field from far to the east. Her father had taken up residency as the towns new cooper after the death of the Candwin family on Winternight two decades before, and though their heritage would once have elevated them to celebrity status amongst the people of the Two Rivers, so many new families had moved in to repopulated the devastated Emond's field that things that would once have been the talk of the village for years had become accepted, if not outright common.

She had approached, winding her way through the dancing villagers to stand before him. Instantly he had felt all his previous calm vanish as she tilted her head up to him and spoke.

"You're Kaelin." It wasn't a question. He nodded slowly and she in turn nodded to herself. He felt his anxiety rise, his mind running through a hundred responses to questions she hadn't yet asked. Miraculously she said nothing, she didn't stare or ask questions, instead she simply moved to stand beside him. Kaelin stood awkwardly, one hand gripping his mug of ale and the other clenched at his side, but as the minutes passed he felt his calm slowly returning. They stood side by side, watching the dancing and singing, in what Kaelin had, to his surprise, come to realise was a comfortable silence.

He could feel her presence, no more than a hands breadth away, and as long minutes passed he found that he very much wanted to know her name.

"My mother died when I was young," She said, she spoken in a rush. Kaelin started, confused at the sudden words. "I don't remember her face, put my da says she looked like me."

Silence returned to them both. He wasn't sure what to say. Finally he spoke.

"I was too young to remember mine, I don't know what she looked like, but I heard once that I take after her."

She seemed to relax a bit then, her posture leaning in towards him. They both continued to stare at the fire.

"My name is Liseyra." He nodded. _Liseyra. _

A short time passed once more in silence before she spoke again. "I've wanted to talk to you, I've heard what they say about you. You're odd."

He remained silent, unsure how to proceed. She glanced back at him.

"Have you ever been to the foot of the mountains of mist?" She asked him.

"No," Kael replied cautiously. "Can't say I have."

"It's beautiful, when you're up that close and you stare upwards at that great expanse of rock, you realise how small you really are. I've heard that some few men have managed to reach the peaks, but that none have tried in a hundred years. I wonder what's up there."

He hadn't thought of that, what was up there? He shrugged.

"Probably some trees and a bunch of rock." He saw her glance back at him again. "Maybe the bones of adventurers who died getting there, too." He added, grasping for something interesting to say.

She smiled then, and his heart leapt. "Maybe, could you imagine? Putting your life at risk to scale a mountain." She was facing him now, and her eyes had a far away look. "Imagine the feeling of reaching the very top of that peak, the whole world spread before you…" She trailed off, though her eyes were bright, her smile wide.

"It would be worth it for the view." He found himself saying, staring at the curve of her face. She nodded, returning her gaze back to the fire, though she kept her smile. He felt very warm here, next to her, and he wasn't quite sure if it had anything to do with the fire, or the mug of ale. That moment had been perfect, and yet like all things perfect it hadn't meant to last.

"I heard your father left the Two Rivers once." She said, and he felt cold suddenly despite the fire.

"Aye," He said slowly. "That he did, so I've heard."

"I heard he was lost for years, with your mother, and when he came back he was a changed man, your mother a different woman."

He frowned, though she was still gazing at the fire and didn't notice his growing discomfort.

"I heard they found adventure. You'd have to change, having seen things. Of course they would seem odd, having lived a life that wasn't solely dictated by the seasons, rising early to tend the cows, spending their best lives in the fields, retiring with the sun to repeat the whole damn thing again the next day. How else would you seem to 'normal' people but strange, if you had seen what was on the other side of the mountains…" She trailed off again, but he noticed her shiver, wrapping her arms around herself. She was still smiling, though it seemed contemplative.

That cold began to enveloped him now, it was the cold heat of a burning anger. He knew only fragments of his parents life. He knew that they had fled after the village had burnt, that both their parents had died waiting for them to return home. That once they had returned, his mother carrying the infant Kaelin in his arms, they had retired to his father's farm in the Westwood. That they had seldom left that farm, that his mother had died there under bizarre circumstances, that he had lived a life with a cold father who had muttered to himself, had ranted in the dead of the night and pointed at shadows as if they were alive. He did not think what they had been through was an adventure. Once, he had learnt, they had been good people. They had returned broken. They had become a broken family, and given rise to a broken son.

"There is nothing beyond that mountain-" Kaelin said suddenly, his voice soft, but harsh. "-there is nothing past the next hill but more of the same. You can spend your life running after the greener grass and at its end you'll be like a seed that never found fertile soil, a shrivelled dead thing with no purpose." A piece of him was shocked at his words, but another larger piece of him held what he said to be the burning truth.

She started, turning back to him. "I thought…" She said quietly, then seeing the anger in his eyes her voice became more sure. "I had thought you would understand, Kaelin al'Thor. But I see now that you are the same as the rest of them, the same as my Da. You want a life with your head buried in the soil, thinking only of your cows and your sheep and the next seasons crop. Fine. Well I won't do that, I won't waste my life having never seen past the next hill. I _will_ find my way to the top of that mountain, no matter what it takes of me, no matter the cost."

She gave him one last look, an infuriating mix of pity and anger, and strode away from him. He had stood there, his hand clenching that mug of ale, his anger threatening to overwhelm him. How dare she assume, how dare she try to _romanticize_ his parents life. They had died young, and left him to pick up the pieces. He felt no _affection _for their adventures, he didn't want a life that brought a new horizon each morning, he had wanted parents, he had wanted people that would _be there. _

He had stood for an hour in that spot, raging, though with time his boiling anger had faded away, leaving him feeling hollow instead. And with a heart heavier than he had felt in years he had turned away from the laughter and music of Bel Tine, to walk the miles back to his farm in darkness. He had been young, and a fool, and yet despite that anger he had thought back to that conversation many times in the years since.

Liseyra had been a babe when she was brought to the Two Rivers. Despite her hair and eyes she was very much an Emond's Fielder, though one that felt confined and smothered in the safety of the village. He understood now that she had a need to break free of this place, that her heart yearned for something beyond the next hill. He understood her need, but could not empathize with that need. He wanted nothing more than stability, a life that he could predict, could control, a life where he knew his place. People were unpredictable, as Liseyra had shown. They could change, they could want different things… they could leave you. Better to be safe, to be alone.

He sighed and shook his head, dispelling the memory. As he grew older he had learnt to accept his own shortcomings, but this memory was still agonizing and one of the main reasons he had vowed to stay away from Bel Tine. It was not for him.

As the sun began to set he stood, making his way back to the farm house. He took one last look at the far off hills, the direction of Emond's Field, the wind blowing through his hair, then turned his back on the sunset and left the yard to return to his books.


	2. Chapter Two - The Flame and the Void

Chapter Two

Kaelin sat in his cushioned armchair, reading the novel of Jain Farstrider. A small glass of brandy sat on the armrest, poured from the reserves he kept in the storeroom; it was Bel Tine after all. A fire cast a warm glow from the stone hearth, flames reflected as if dancing across the polished surface of the broad oaken table which formed the centerpiece of the room, long enough to seat a dozen, yet the table hadn't seen more than two seated before it in many years.

Another Bel Tine spent alone in this house, the house his father had returned to after leaving the Two Rivers, with a wife and infant son in tow. The house of his childhood, yet it was only after his father's death that it had come to feel like home.

He had few fond memories from the early years of his life, and no memories at all of his mother - his father could barely stand to utter her name and people spoke of her rarely - yet the pieces he had put together made him wish he did. Ewin spoke well of her, though he spoke well of his father too.

What memories he did have of those years were of his father, though they filled him with both anger and a deep sadness. Those memories were of a dried husk of a man, one who spoke little and drank often, a man who had hardly seemed alive. Ewin had once said that the best part of his father had died with his mother, as if a piece of him had blown away with her. Kaelin believed that to be true. Whoever Rand al'Thor had been prior to his wife's death, only a shadow of that man had remained to raise his son.

He still remembered the day he had returned home to find an empty house. He had cooked his own dinner and fallen asleep, rising to find his father still absent. Though it was not uncommon for his father to disappear without a word -he had taken to wandering in the last years of his life- he had rarely failed to return before first light. Ewin had arrived later that morning, his face grim. Kaelin had known. Even before the words were spoken, he had known, and yet no tears had fallen. None ever would.

They had travelled in silence to Emond's Field where he had stood outside the Inn, waiting on the Village Council who were gathered in meeting, Ewin's hand resting protectively on his shoulder. Soon the Council had emerged, their faces consoling; they had patted him on the shoulder in passing, their condolences washing over him like water over a river stone. He had been summoned into the Inn by the mayor who had ceased his own condolences after one look at Kaelin's face. The young Kaelin, face as hard as stone, ignoring the concerned looks from the mayor, had listened quietly as the balding middle aged man spoke to him of his father's last wishes. He had emerged from the Inn soon after as the sole owner of his father's farm, holding a letter written in his father's hand.

He had returned to his farm that night, not having shed a single tear. He had built a fire in the hearth, cooked his own meal and sat in his father's armchair staring at the letter. For one brief moment he had considered tossing it to the flames, but shook his head and instead took the letter upstairs, locking it in the small chestnut jewelry box that his father had made his mother. And there it stayed, unopened.

Kaelin rose out of the armchair, almost spilling the small glass of brandy to the wooden floor. With a sigh he carried the untouched glass back to the aged bottle, deftly pouring the liquid back and sealing it. He had no taste for brandy tonight; his mind was too full of thoughts, each one vying for attention like crashing waves. Yet one thought in particular kept rising to the surface, tugging his concentration away from the pages of his book. It was like a stone stuck in the corner of his boot, the kind that was too small to justify unlacing to remove but just enough of a discomfort to let him know it was there.

The dark rider.

His mind had turned back to the dark figure often of late, and yet Kaelin had refused to dwell on the strangeness, wanting nothing to do with anything other than his farm and his books. Yet now Ewin had seen him too, and Kaelin could no longer ignore that shiver that permeated his bones when he thought of the man. His instincts told him -screamed at him- that something was wrong.

Kaelin sat back down in the armchair, scratching at his chin. There was something about that rider, something that he was missing. Something that he had not let himself realise at the time. He shook his head, unable to focus. Too many thoughts, too many memories, Bel Tine always had a way of bringing to surface all that he had worked so hard to bury.

There was one memory of his father - one amongst the avalanche of sorrow - that shined like a single flame in the darkness. Kaelin had been young, maybe six or seven, when his father had taken him on a long hike through the backcountry. They had stopped in a valley and there they had sat, facing one another, his Father's hand resting on his son's shoulder. It was there that he had first learnt of The flame and the Void.

It had taken Kaelin year's to master the technique, and yet that first time attempting it, sitting cross legged in front of his father in a valley surrounded by trees, was one memory he held close to his heart. His father had smiled then -a rare occurrence- encouraging him with gentle words as the young Kaelin scrunched up his eyes, attempting to empty his mind, to feed all fear and emotion and thought into a small flame surrounded by darkness. In this way a man could free himself from distraction, his concentration become total. They had practised the technique with the bow, his father demonstrated by entering the void to send arrow after arrow into the bough of a pine a hundred paces off, each arrow no more than a finger length apart from the other. They had practised together as father and son for long hours until the sun began to fall below the horizon.

On the hike home Kaelin's father had explained that The Flame and the Void was more than simply a way to master the bow.

"It's not just a technique to aid concentration, Son. It is much, much more. It is a way to handle all that the world will throw at you, to stand against the crashing waves, and there will be many." Kaelin's father rarely spoke, yet there was a light in his eyes now, a conviction in his voice that Kaelin had never heard. "Some men," He continued. "when faced with the horrors of this world will panic, fleeing from their terror. Some others will rail against them in a blind fury, trying to dominate their fear with anger." He shook his head. "Then there are the few who will stand and face their fear with the calm strength of the void, to accept what is and what will be and yet stand regardless. The Flame and the Void is simply a tool, and yet with it a man can stand against the tides of this world, unafraid, unyielding."

Those words burned in Kaelin's memory. They were a glimpse, albeit a brief one, into the man his father might once have been.

Kaelin sat now, his eyes closed. He fed his memories to the flame, that golden moment, along with others of anger and sorrow; the chill he felt at the sight of that dark rider, his memories of Liseyra, the shadow that his father had become. All were fed into the flame, until only the flame remained surrounded by darkness.

Now, with his mind emptied, he calmly summoned the image of the rider, analyzing the moment without emotion. In his mind's eye he pictured the scene again, for long minutes he sat within the void. Eventually, he saw the wrongness. The man's cloak had not moved. Though there had been a breeze in the air, the dark cloth had stayed still. Kaelin shivered, though that feeling was outside the void, skimming across the veil of calm. His cloak had not moved with the wind. How was that possible?

And there was something else. That unmoving cloak, it tugged at the chords of his memory, something Kaelin had once overheard from his father, muttered under his breath. _A man on horseback in the distance, a cloak that never moved, an eyeless man. _He dispelled the void, and with it's absence he felt his sense of unease grow.

He supposed it wouldn't hurt to take a quick look around his own farm.

He stood, moving to the wooden peg that he had embedded into the wall, taking down his coat and swinging it around his shoulders. He opened the door and paused with a frown. Turning back into the room, he retrieved his bow, attaching a small quiver of hunting arrows to his belt. He also moved to the pine wood drawers in the corner, taking from it the key to the front door. Stepping into the yard he closed the door behind him and locked it, something he hadn't done in years.

He scanned the yard, noting no change from that afternoon. Listening intently he heard nothing unfamiliar either. The sheep were asleep in their pens, the soft sounds of their breathing accompanied the breeze and the general chirping of insects in the fields. He moved to the barn, checking on the two cows who were also undisturbed. Nothing seemed to be out of place.

With measured steps he moved away from the comforting light of the farmhouse, dancing through glass paned windows to bathe the small yard. Kaelin opened the yard gate and stepped beyond, closing it behind himself. The night was still chilled, despite it being well past winter, and a crescent moon hung, partially obscured by clouds. The forest beyond took on an eerie cast in the pale moonlight, shadows seeming to sway, akin to the movement of feral creatures.

Kaelin stood for a few minutes, letting his eyesight adjust to the darkness. The shadows receded somewhat and the forest lost some of its wickedness. With another huff Kaelin set off for the boundaries of his farm, he would make a quick circuit before maybe heading over to Ewin's farm.

Something had him on edge, he wasn't quite sure if it was intuition or just fanciful fear, either way he'd not relax tonight without absolving his mind of worry.

He moved carefully, his boots hardly making a sound, bow held before him with arrow nocked. He was a farmer, as were most of the inhabitants of the Two Rivers, but rare it was to meet an Emond's Fielder who could not navigate the forest in silence. His boots deftly avoided dried leaves and twigs, and he disguised some of his movements through the more dense bushes and trees with the rustling of the wind. Perhaps he was being over-cautious, but he trusted his instincts, and they were on fire.

An hour passed and Kaelin had made almost the entire circuit around his property. He had found nothing, yet that feeling remained. Soon he completed his scouting, having neither seen nor heard anything out of the ordinary. Irritation rose within him, had his instincts become so unreliable? Or was the storm yet to break? Either way he would find nothing tonight.

With a sigh he swung the longbow to his shoulder, turning and making directly for the twinkling light of the farmhouse. Soon he stood before the gate to the farmyard, and with one last look out towards the shadow dappled forest, he put the dark cloaked rider from his mind. He was determined to reclaim the rest of his night, he would have that brandy and he would read that book. Pulling the old iron key from his coat pocket he moved to open the door.

It was ajar.

Kaelin started. The farmhouse door was open, a thin line of light spilling through the crack.

"Best come in." A voice called from inside. He jumped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He did not recognize that voice. "It's cold out, I'd prefer to talk in here."


	3. Chapter Three - An Unexpected Visit

Chapter Three

Kaelin ducked to the side of the door, pulling an arrow from the quiver at his side and nocking it to the bow. He wasn't quite sure how useful the thing would be in the cramped confines of his small farmhouse. The two rivers bow was known for its size, completely unsuited to close quarters combat. He'd probably be better off swinging the thing like a club.

"You'd be better off using that thing as a club, boy." The voice said with a hint of a chuckle. Kaelin ducked, how had the man seen. No, he had heard the taut string being pulled.

"Are you planning on standing outside all night? Come on in, this brandy isn't bad."

Kaelin frowned. _My Brandy?_. With a curse he burst into the farmhouse, bow drawn. A man sat in his armchair, calmly sipping from Kaelin's brandy. He was a roguish man in his middle years, maybe a few years younger than Ewin with dark hair that swept across an angular face. He had brown eyes, seemingly as mischievous as his grin, though a jagged scar that cut from forehead down to cheek - barely missing his eye - spoke of a different man beneath. There was something about this man; he seemed completely at ease, even with an arrow nocked at him from three paces.

"What in the light…" Kaelin began.

"Good brandy this." He said, taking another sip. "Not as fine as I've tasted, but there is something to be said for the effect nostalgia can have on taste."

"Explain yourself man, or I'll have an arrow through your heart before…"

The man cut him off again. "Must be close to as old as myself, this brandy. Last time I had a measure I was about your age. The time before that, a sip came with a clout to the ear from Tam for raiding his stores." He ginned. "Your father took Tam's disappointment to heart more than the beating, but then Rand had always looked up to Tam. Hard man not to look up to, to be fair."

Kaelin lowered his bow slowly. _His father. _This man knew his father? Had grown up with him by the sounds of it. He knew their names, beyond that he knew that the brandy was one made by his grandfather. A dozen different questions beat around at the inside of his mind. This man was an Emond's Fielder? How had he known his father? What was he doing sitting in his armchair, the sun long set?

"Get out." Kaelin said instead.

The man gave another grin, ignoring the order. "Yes, I knew your father. Grew up with him, knew him like a brother. Bit of a stick in the mud sometimes but on the general he was good for a laugh."

"I said get out"

The man stood, though not to leave. He paced to the shelf which held his book collection, brandy glass still held in one hand. "Jain Farstrider, used to love his books myself." He turned to Kaelin. "I met him once you know, I meant to tell your father that, he would have died of jealousy. Meant to tell him a lot of things, to be fair."

"Listen old man, this is all very touching but I'm not interested. Put down the brandy and be on your merry way before I send you out with an arrow for company."

"I was never one for manners either," He stood calmly, that grin still in place, but his eyes flashed dangerously. "but you best change your attitude or this 'old man' will set you on your back, with a boot on your neck for good measure."

There was something about that look that made Kaelin almost entirely sure that he could do exactly that, yet he did not back down, and met the man's dangerous eyes with his own, raising the bow once again.

Surprisingly the man grinned, then nodded. Seating himself in the armchair again.

"Stubborn. Not sure if that's something of your father in you or your mother. Egwene could match a Tairen Lord for temper and a stump for spirit when being told to move, if that isn't the bloody truth."

_My mother? _Kaelin lowered the bow, the arrow clattering to the floor.

"Now, sit. And let Uncle Matrim tell you a story."


	4. Chapter Four - Of Stories & Shadow

Chapter Four

"A story?" Kaelin asked, his mind still working slowly. People never spoke of his mother.

"Aye, well not a long one, we don't have much time."

"Much time? For what?"

Mat waved the question away. "Certainly don't have time for any questions lad, so just sit there like a well behaved al'Thor and pay attention. There is a lot of history here, the others wanted to pull you out of this place as soon as possible, but I convinced them otherwise. I assumed stubborn would run in the family, bloody well right I was. Be like trying to haul an unfed donkey out of a barn I said, no matter that the roof is on fire."

"Wait, pull me out?" Kaelin asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

"What did I say about questions, çlearly got your brains from your father's side."

Kaelin frowned, but kept his rebuke to himself. This man was an odd one, but he found that he wanted to know what this man knew of his mother.

"Like I said, we don't have much time, things are moving faster than we anticipated but I reckon you're owed at least a brief telling of how we got here." As he spoke he set the brandy down, pulling a pipe from his pocket and filling it with tabac. "Right to say that this all started about two decades ago, when Emond's field was attacked on Winternight."

"The Bloodlight Night."

"Aye, I've heard that's what they ended up calling it. I also heard that they believe it the work of a renegade band of mercenaries come up from Ghealdan" He took a puff, frowning. "Bloody ridiculous what people will believe, what they'll want to believe, many of those fools burnt and buried the bones of the damn things themselves, and they'll still tell you they were a bunch of men in furs! I suppose anything is better than the truth, particularly in that case. Anyway, that was the night Tam almost died. Your father, your mother, myself and a few others were pulled away by a couple of travellers who had been staying at the old inn. We were the real targets, you see, of the attack."

Kaelin frowned, he'd not heard any mention of travellers taking his father away. He wanted to ask further questions but Mat seemed to anticipate this and gave him his own frown.

"We left Emond's field, left the two rivers. We were being chased," Mat stuck the pipe in his mouth, taking a long draw. "Not by any band of bloody fur wearing mercenaries, but by the dark one's minions."

Silence followed those words. They hung in the air of the small room, which seemed to gather darkness despite the fire. Mat stared at him intently, puffing from his pipe.

Finally Kaelin snorted. "The dark one's minions?" He shook his head, chuckling.

Mat scowled "Yes the bloody dark ones minions, you think I made all this up for your enjoyment? Bloody fool young generation, I swear, your entire life you've hardly seen what's past the next hill and yet you're already sure you know what encompasses the entire world." He spluttered, having inhaled his pipe too forcefully. With a curse he knocked the remaining tabac out of the pipe. "Bloody Tabacs gone bad. You listen to me lad, the dark one does exist, as do his minions. Fades, Myrddraal, Trollocs. They're all real boy, the sooner you accept that the easier all of this will be."

Kaelin shook his head. Maybe there was more than just tabac in the mans pipe. "Ah, look..." Kaelin paused. "...Uncle Matrim. I appreciate a good story as much as the next man, and I've read plenty about the shadow in my books, very interesting, but you'll forgive me if I don't jump at accepting the existence of monsters from a rogue who broke into my house and drank my good brandy."

Mat sighed, putting hands to his temples and closing his eyes. Kaelin distinctly caught the phrase "Stubborn as a stump" while the man muttered under his breath.

"My fault-" He finally said, almost sounding resigned. "-not sure why I expected you to make this easy. Forget the dark one then, and his 'fairytale creatures'. I can tell the story well enough while skirting the more interesting parts, let's stick to the mundane then so as not to upset your bloody fragile little mind." He stood up, moving to a satchel that lay on the floor, rummaging around in it's contents.

"We left the two rivers, all of us, travelled to Baerlon and intended to travel on to Whitebridge. Unfortunately, on the way there, one of our… companions… was killed while escaping a pack of those 'people'. Another one of us died shortly after and then we sort of had to figure out what to do with ourselves."

From the satchel Mat pulled out a coin, handing it to Kaelin. Kealin took it, studying the coin. It was heavy, and was stamped with the profile of a woman on one side, and a single flame on the other.

"A Tar Valon mark" Mat said, nodding at the coin. "One was given to each of us. It was only later that we found that the marks were laced with some sort of trace that allowed certain people to track us. Your father gave me his before he left us. Unfortunately for me, these coins could be tracked by the same people we were fleeing from. Took me a decade to figure that out."

Kaelin flipped the coin over in his fingers. Silent for a moment, he then asked. "Why'd he give you his?"

Mat shrugged. "When our companions died we had to figure out which path to take. In the end we each of us took a different path. Your father and mother decided to head back to Emond's field, although they ended up taking a few years to get back, got sidetracked I suppose. I set off with another of our companions, intending to get to Tar Valon. Your father said I'd need the money more than he, so he gave it to me." Mat snorted. "I thought he was being a fool, that was more money than either of us had ever seen. Turns out his generosity saved him, he was all but ignored and I've spent my life on the run."

"If I were to believe any of this were true-" Kaelin began, Mat giving him a flat stare which he ignored. "And this coin here was some sort of magic tracking coin that led bad people to you, wouldn't it be best to just throw it away?"

Mat snatched the coin out of his hand. "Obviously, the coin has been purged of its trace, what do you think I am, some kind of idiot?"

Mat eyed him, seemingly daring him to answer. Another rebuke was withheld.

"Anway, we're going off topic. Cutting our little story short, all you really need to know is that the people that were after your father and I have returned. They're here, after the scent going cold they've returned to the beginning of the chase. They're more than likely after you, and that's a problem because_ we_ need you."

Kaelin stood up, having had just about enough. "Sorry 'Uncle', let me get this whole story straight. Twenty years ago you left the two rivers because some people were after you, now you're back here because they are after me now? I find that hard to believe, what would they want with me."

Mat scowled. "Same reason I'm having such a bloody hard time convincing you that this is all true; you're your father's bloody son. It turns out that he was the one, the real one that they were after. He just slipped through their fingers. He's gone now, but the world hasn't ended, you're still a gateway to him, something that we believe they only just figured out. To be fair we only just figured it out ourselves."

"You're making even less sense now."

"Aye lad, the world's about to get a whole lot bloody bigger for you, despite that there's not much room for sense. There's no point explaining it to someone like you either, you'll clearly have to see it to believe it. Now get your sword and some clothes and we'll be on our way."

"I don't have a sword, and what makes you think I'm…"

"What do you mean? Tam's sword, Rand gave it to you. He told me in the letter he sent me. Blood and ashes boy, I hope you haven't gone and sold the thing."

"I don't have a sword," Kaelin repeated, his jaw tight. "I don't have anything from my father. He didn't intend to leave me anything, not sure if you realise but he didn't die in his bed, with his loving family surrounding him. He left me, took his own life, the cowards end to match the coward he was in life." Kaelin's voice had risen, by the end of it he was almost shouting.

Mat went still, very still. His eyes were dangerous. Kaelin was breathing hard but met the man's eyes.

"You listen to me lad," He said, very quietly. "Your father was many things, but coward was not one of them."

"How would you know, 'Uncle Matrim'." Kaelin spat, his voice ringing with contempt. "Knew him so well, like brothers were you? Why have we never met then? Where were you when he killed himself?"

A flash of pain crossed the other mans face, soon replace by anger. "I was running, for my life. For all of us. I was running so that you could sit in this light cursed armchair and read your books. Burn me, but if I knew it was all so a spoilt child could ignore the world with his nose in these bloody pages maybe I would have just left you to them, maybe I wouldn't have wasted my time acting the bloody hero."

Suddenly a cry pierced the quiet night, it sounded like one of the sheep. Mat's eyes opened wide and he ran over to the window. There was silence for a few seconds as Mat crouched at the corner of the window, peeking through the curtains, then several other bleats erupted followed by a snarl that sounded like a wolf, a very big wolf.

Mat cursed, turning back to Kaelin "Well lad, I hope you're good with that bow" He said with a grimace. "Because we've just run out of time."


	5. Chapter Five - Flee

Chapter Five

Mat cursed again, ducking back down from the window. "There are far too many out front, quick, help me bolt down the shutters. Do you have anything to bar this door with? Not that it'll hold them for long"

"Hold who for long?" Kaelin asked, moving to the front door. "There's something out there with the sheep, I need to -"

"You need to do what I tell you, where's the key to that front door?"

Kaelin frowned, but passed the man the heavy iron key from his pocket. As Mat rushed over to lock the front door Kaelin moved to the windows. It was dark beyond the yard, though that sliver of moon still hung in the night, casting a pale light that one could almost see by. More snarling came from the direction of the sheep pen, shadows moved there, like the swaying of the forest in darkness, eerie and malevolent. A sheeps bleating ended abruptly. Kaelin frowned, straining to see.

Mat pushed him out of the way, cursing, pulling the shutters closed and bolting them shut.

"There's a window upstairs, right? Facing the rear of the farm?" Mat asked, pulling the heavy armchair from its place in front of the fire and shifting it over to the door. "Go on up there and get me a count on how many there are out back."

"How many of what?" Kaelin asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Mat scowled. "Evidently it's something you'll need to see to believe, go on now, take that bow of yours."

Kaelin turned and ran up the stairs to the room above. The roof here wasn't quite tall enough to comfortably stand, and so he stooped past his bed and to the single window that looked out east to the rear of the farmhouse. All was silence, from here Kaelin could see the side of the barn. There was more scraping of furniture from below. Kaelin's eyes darted about, trying to pick movement from the shadows.

Nothing.

Then, a shadow; a hulking figure, detached itself from the deeper shadows cast by the barn. The hair on the back of Kaelin's neck stood on end. The creature was tall, at least two feet taller than himself and broad of shoulder. He couldn't make out any features in the darkness, it seemed to be wearing armor and held a curved blade, but it's legs. . . it's legs were wrong, very wrong, the knee bending backwards, inverted like that of a dogs.

Kaelin stifled a yell. The thing barked, and to Kaelin's horror was joined by others. Two, three, four. A dozen.

"How many?" Mat whispered from behind him. Kaelin almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard the man approach.

Kaelin's mouth worked silently, but no sound came forth. Mat grimaced, pushing him to the side and stared out through the window. He cursed.

"I don't like our chances of holding out against that many, we need to make a run for it. Back down stairs lad, we're getting out of here."

Mat turned and moved hastily to descend the stairs. Kaelin moved to follow but paused for a moment, pale moonlight from the window illuminated the dresser opposite his bed. The chestnut jewelry box sat there. He almost reached for it and the letter inside.

"Burn me boy, I said we're getting out of here."

Kaelin turned away, dashing after Mat back down to the ground floor. He could hear movement now on the porch, what sounded like hooves clanking on the wooden planks.

"We can't out run them on foot-"

"What-?" Kaelin began, but Mat hushed him.

"My horse is tethered not far from here, but he won't last long with two of us on his back at full gallop. Burn me, I thought we had more time. Do you have any horses in the barn? No, bloody of course not. We need to distract them long enough to make it to the forest. They have good eyesight in the dark but they're too big to move quickly through that dense brush. We can lose them in there and circle back for the horse. Come on."

He picked up his satchel, grimacing, pulling out a long cylindrical tube that seemed to be made of a thick paper, it was attached to a thin wooden stick about a foot long. _A firework_. Kaelin had seen one once, many years ago, though it had been blasted apart at one end, the paper singed and burnt. Jord had brought it by to show him after one of their brief conversations brought up the fact that Kaelin had never seen a firework. Emond's field had known only one display that he knew of in his lifetime, and he had been too young to remember it.

Mat hefted the thing in his hand. "Burn me but I hope this works." A knife appeared in his hand, drawn from his sleeve, and Mat cut the wick from one end of the tube, leaving only half an inch. He handed the tube to Kaelin, who stared at it. Mat rushed over to the fire taking a taper from the mantle, lighting it and handing it to Kaelin.

"You know how these work?" Mat asked. Kaelin shook his head. Mat pointed to the side of the tube where the short wick peeked out of the papered bottom. "When I tell you to, you light this end, hold on to that stick there and point the thing away from you, you understand?"

Kaelin nodded, his mouth going dry.

"_Away _from you. Bloody well make sure it's facing away from you. I'll tell you where I want you to aim it."

A crack came from the front door, some of the wooden planks splintered under the force. Guttural voices came from beyond, a language that seemed too harsh, unsuited to human tongue, then another crack sounded, more planks splintered.

"We've a better chance of this working at the back door, hurry." Mat left his satchel, but picked up a longstaff that was leaning against the wall. It was tipped on either end with what looked like iron. He dashed out of the front room, Kaelin not far behind. The back room was smaller, with a door that led to the rear yard of the house and one window that faced to the west. Kaelin realised the back door was unlocked, he saw with horror the simple iron handle turning as if being opened from outside. Mat's shoulder slammed into the door, forcing the handle closed. A surprised shout came from beyond.

"Light the cursed thing." Mat yelled, as the door shuddered under the impact of a blow from the outside. "When the wick is burnt up you tell me, I'm going to open this door. Aim it outside!"

A crash came from the front room followed by angry shouts and snarls. Mat ignored the sounds.

"Once we're through, make for the forest like you're a bloody hare escaping the butchers knife. We'll lose them in there." The back door shuddered again, Mat was almost thrown to the floor by the impact.

"Light-" Kaelin yelled, lighting the wick. It was coated in something, as it flared briefly before catching. Kaelin watched as the small flame travelled quickly up the short wick, disappearing into the paper tube.

"Now!" Kaelin yelled. Mat pulled the door open, hurling himself to the side and covering his head with his arms. One of the creatures outside must have been about to strike at the door, as it came tumbling inside, a mass of horns, dark mail and spiked armor. An all too human face with pale blue eyes blinked in surprise, though where its mouth should have been was a beak, curved, like a hunting bird.

_Trolloc. Light, they're real._

It was all a blur to Kaelin as he took in the horror before him, he realised he was screaming as he stood across from the door, holding the firework before him aimed at a mass of huge, hairy shapes that crowded outside. For one incongruous second they stood, transfixed, blinking at the sudden light, then the firework _erupted._

Something like a shooting star shot forward, the force of it knocking Kaelin back a step. It hurtled across the room in an eyeblink, screeching, aimed directly into the middle of that mass of horns and teeth. Kaelin had never seen a firework before, but never could he have expected what happened next.

The thing _exploded. _With the sound of a thunderclap it exploded among the tightly packed creatures in a shower of brightly colored sparks that hurt the eyes. The creatures roared, the front two who were hit directly collapsed to the ground, but the firework was not yet done. It seemed to splinter into a multitude of smaller explosions, each one deafening, showering sparks, zipping across the room and out in the yard. Kaelin couldn't decide between covering his eyes or plugging his ears, but he had no chance for either as Mat yanked him by the collar, pulling Kaelin after him directly into the middle of that chaos.

Letting go of Kaelin, Mat parried a clumsy swing of a sword with his longstaff. The creatures stumbled around in confusion, many with their eyes closed, their fur singed. Some few even fled, screaming, the fur on their arms and backs on fire.

"Burn me, keep up damn you!" Mat yelled, his staff a blur as he battered aside the ungainly strikes from the near blind trollocs. Kaelin gritted his teeth, his ears ringing, following closely behind Mat as he cleared a path through the bellowing beasts. One of them, a leaner looking creature with the horns of a ram and the muzzle of a wolf, clawed at him with fingers that seemed human but ended in wicked looking talons. Without thinking Kaelin sidestepped, knocking the monster aside with his longbow, a knife appeared in one of its eyes and it bellowed, dropping to the ground. "What did I say about keeping up!" Mat yelled, turning back to parry a blow from the trolloc before him, swinging the reverse end of the iron tipped pole to strike the creature on the temple with a sickening crunch.

It seemed the terrifying escape would go on forever, but in only seconds they were through, the pair of them bolting for the forest across the shadowed landscape that was the rear farmland.

"We need to split up" Mat said between breaths, hurtling alongside Kaelin as they fled for their lives. "Make your way east, lose them, then find a way to cut back to the south and the Old Quarry road. The horse is tethered near the stream that follows the road, do you know it?"

"Yes." Kaelin said. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, he had never run this fast in all his life, he could barely hold on to his terror.

"I'll meet you there in ten, if I don't arrive then you take that horse and get your bloody self to Emond's field. Don't try to hide, some of them can track you by scent." Kaelin nodded, though the thought of being left alone drove his fear to even greater heights. He didn't want to split up, he understood the reasoning but he was only scarcely holding himself together as it was. Mat knew what he was doing, he didn't scream or look around wildly like Kaelin did. Kaelin held on to the man's confidence like he would a plank keeping him afloat amongst crashing waves.

"Bloody Mat Cauthon" Mat said to himself. "Always have to act the bloody hero." With those last words he pulled away from Kaelin, angling to the North east. He started yelling at the top of his voice. Incredulously, Kaelin realised, the man was singing. He didn't catch all the words, but he did catch something about dancing with a man named Jack.

Kaelin's legs pumped for all they were worth, it was a wonder he hadn't landed a foot in a rabbit hole and broken an ankle. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark as he barrelled across the field. He glanced to his left, in the direction Mat had run off, he could no longer hear the man's singing but could make out the howling of a dozen trollocs, they all seemed to be following Mat.

Blessedly he reached the forest line, collapsing to his knees and crawled through the branches of a dense bush. He lay there for some seconds, his breathing coming in gasps, sucking air into tortured lungs. He strained for any sound, but apart from the sway of branches and rustle of leaves he heard nothing. He had to keep moving, to stay in this place was to die, Mat had said they could track by scent. Eventually they would find him.

"Pull yourself together." He whispered to himself, though the words felt shrill in his ears. He tried to force his legs to work, but he remained frozen. "Pull yourself together, you bloody fool!" He said again, snarling to himself. With a lurch he rose to a crouching position, forcing his way through and out the other side of the bush. He emerged into the forest, what little light offered by the crescent moon pierced intermediately through the thickly covered branches above, a Nighthawks cry sent him back to the ground in terror, his heart in his throat.

"Come on you coward" He whispered to himself fiercely. "Get going!"

He started forward, trying to move as quickly as he dared, judging his direction as slightly south east. He continued on for some time, moving further into the dense forest before satisfied that he was deep enough to avoid pursuit. He angled fully to the south now, towards the road and the stream which flowed beside it.

The night's events rolled through his mind like crashing waves, each moment vying for attention, his thoughts flickering between his meeting with Mat and his discovery that Trolloc's were, in fact, real. The world suddenly seemed a much bigger place, and his place in it much, much smaller. What other stories were true? Stories Kaelin had long ago cast aside as meer fanciful writings meant to entertain, what other nightmares really did stalk the land?

_Fades_. Kaelin thought with a shiver. Mat had said they existed. They were said to be terrifying on a level not shared with even Trollocs, that they were to exemplify fear itself. Suddenly the shadows of the forest seemed more sinister than they had been before. Fades were said to ride shadows like horses, to shift along them like a leaf in a swift flowing river. Kaelin forced the thoughts out of his mind, but it was hard to shake off his terror. He had not heard anything since entering the forest, and with a start he realised he'd probably been walking for a good quarter of an hour, if he was late to the horse would Mat leave him here? For some reason he didn't think so but he picked up his pace all the same.

Soon he came upon the soft sound of bubbling water. Stepping past a weathered gumtree he found the stream before him. It's shallow but swift flowing water was an instant relief and he almost sank to his knees at the sight. Forcing himself to keep going, he followed the stream which paralleled the Old Quarry road, on the lookout for a tethered horse. He continued on but each minute that passed without finding the meeting spot mirrored a rise in his anxiety, a cold sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and he could hear his heart thumping in his ears.

Had Mat managed to escape? Or had the trollocs taken him? Worry enveloped him. Had Mat gotten here ahead of him, with Trollocs on his heels? Had he been forced to take the horse and flee himself? Had he left Kaelin behind?

Suddenly the terrors of the night overwhelmed him and Kaelin sat down, exhausted more from fear than anything else. Guilt assailed him as he realised he was more concerned with being left behind than he was with Mat's own safety. He was unused to people and his instincts were to care for himself first. The man had sacrificed his own safety to lead the trollocs away from Kaelin and yet Kaelin's biggest fear was for his own life.

The sound of hooves brought his attention back to the present. He stood, relief washing over him as he realised the sound was of a horse being walked on the hard packed earth of the Old Quarry Road. He dashed to the stream, wading through the shin deep water and scrambled up the other side to the road. A figure on horseback approached.

Kaelin's face fell, his terror renewed. Before him, a silent figure sat upon a tall black horse, long dark cloak falling almost to ankle, a cloak that seemed not to shift with the wind.


	6. Chapter Six - Aes Sedai

Chapter Six

Kaelin's blood froze, and so too did his feet. The dark rider reined in before him, seemingly unsurprised to find his quarry standing before him.

"Come child," It spoke softly, with a voice that sounded like rotten linen being torn apart. "You are needed."

Kaelin's heart was beating fast, they said that to face the eyeless was to know true fear, and he felt it then, like a cold hand gripping his throat, his heart. He tried to take a step back, to flee, but was held in place as surely as if he'd waded waist deep in quicksand. He did manage to shake his head, to deny the request, but this only seemed to amuse the Fade.

"You are needed, child," The Fade repeated, edging his mount closer. "Your soul is needed, but not your skin. Deny me, and I will drag you back to the blight with your skin flailed from eyelids to kneecaps, your body covered in salt. You will live, but you will wish you did not."

The Fade's mount snorted, a hoof pawing at the ground, and Kaelin tore his eyes from the Fade to find fresh horror beneath. That horse should not be alive. It seemed to be cloaked in darkness like the Fade, yet being this close to the creature could not disguise the broken skin and stripped away muscle. It's skeletal body was covered in weeping sores and a dark fungus that grew like a plague, spreading across it's quivering chest and spilling from a rotten mouth.

The site was so grotesque that Kaelin was able to take a step back, then another, and another. With one last glance at the ruined creature Kaelin turned and ran. A horrible scream erupted from the Fade's mount as it gave chase. Kaelin knew he didn't have a chance outrunning the nightmare on foot.

"Kaelin, down!" A yell from up ahead. Kaelin saw Mat, knives flashing from sleeves to spin through the air over Kaelin's shoulder. With a cry Kaelin lunged to the side, hitting the packed earth hard and rolling through his momentum. A sudden heat seemed to split the air, accompanied by a roar that passed above him, hurtling towards the Fade. The dark rider exploded, it's cloak engulfed in flames, it screamed in terrible harmony with its thrashing mount as the fire quickly spread across both rider and beast. Kaelin scrambled back, eyes wide in shock. Terror gripped him anew as both Fade and mount refused to die, instead pulling free a dark blade from scabbard and urging the mount forward. Another roar, and Kaelin turned to see a second fireball lance across the roadway. _That's no firework._ Kaelin thought, as the burning ball hurtled towards the Fade.

The Fade let forth a broken wail then pulled roughly at the reins; and that terrible mount's legs _broke._ With a crack the bones of the skeletal horse shifted, the joints reforming at odd angles. The horse sidestepped, it's legs now splayed to either side like a crab. The fireball hurtled past the deformed creature as it scuttled across the road, it's movements unnatural.

"Light!" A woman's voice exclaimed. A mounted figure appeared from the darkness -illuminated by the flame engulfed Fade- a woman with long dark hair pulled into a single braid. She gritted her teeth, extended her arms and another fireball formed in the air before her, with a grunt she hurled it at the Fade, but the Fade's mount; nimble now, dodged it again.

"That's not working!" Mat yelled, he pulled another knife from his sleeves and threw it, spinning end over end with speed enough to strike the creature. The blade sunk deeply into the corrupted flesh, but the unnatural beast hardly seemed to notice.

"Neither is that" The woman snapped back. "Get out of the way Matrim, this is beyond you."

Her face adopted a sense of concentration. The Fade swung towards her, rider and mount scuttling forward at speed, dark blade held out to the side and cloak of flames flaring behind. The ground erupted below the creature, earth spraying up towards the black night sky with incredible force. The nightmarish creatures limbs shattered before the impact, it's screams were terrible as the blast ripped it apart from below. The Fade was flung from its dying mount, hitting the ground hard but rising with incredible dexterity. Flowing across the ground like an enraged snake, it made directly for the woman. She didn't back down, though Kaelin saw her face pale at the sight of the Fade, cloak still smoldering, bearing down on her with speed.

With a yell Kaelin hurled himself in front of her. Raising his bow like a club; he swung desperately but the Fade nimbly avoided the blow. It snarled at him, and Kaelin saw the dark sword rise, knowing that he was witnessing his own end; even the most trifling cut from a Fades blade was said to be death. Miraculously, the Fade pulled back, trying to flow around Kaelin to get to the woman. Kaelin took up the offensive, following in on the Fade with bow swinging.

Suddenly the Fade halted abruptly, as if someone had reached out a ghostly hand and snatched it by the neck. It started to thrash, held in place. Suddenly it's arms too were pinned to its body.

"Now Mat!" The woman yelled from behind. "I can't hold it forever!" She was sweating, tense hands held out in front of her as if she were struggling to keep her hold on the Fade. A sword appeared, flashing from behind the Fade, separating head from body. The head landed with a wet thud on the ground and Mat's boot sent it flying into the tall grass beside the road. The woman gasped, sucking in air, as if she'd been holding her breath. Her arms fell and whatever hold she had on the Fade disappeared. The thing still refused to die, it thrashed wildly about with its sword. Mat dodged out of the way with a curse, running over to Kaelin.

"Blood and ashes, Nynaeve" He swore, his breathing heavy. "You could warn a man before you release a bloody Fade" Her only response was a glare and a sniff.

Mat turned back to look at the Fade, which was thrashing around blindly. "Those were good knives." He grumbled. Kaelin glanced over at the remains of the beast, smoldering and ripped apart. If he'd thrown his best knives and half his tools at the beast he'd not be in a hurry to reclaim them, there was already a deeply disturbing smell in the air and the creature seemed to be rotting away before his eyes.

"Kaelin-" Mat said, turning to the young man. Now that the danger had passed he felt his body start to weaken, he started shaking uncontrollably, as if he were caught in a blizzard. His mind reeled at what had just happened, he'd leaped into the path of a Fade, he'd been prepared to die. He felt sick.

"Better get him some tea Nynaeve, looks like he's about to sick up."

"We don't have time for tea, Mat." She said, a snap in her voice, her face still looked a bit pale but her eyes were steady. "I don't know how many Fades are in the area, but any within a few miles from here certainly felt me channel. We need to be away from here. Now." Mat swore again, dashing away to retrieve his mount.

She turned to Kaelin. "You, boy, where's your mount?"

Kaelin just shook his head, placing hands on knees and trying to breath. _Concentrate on your breathing._ He thought, he did feel like he were about to sick up. He sat down heavily, gasping great breaths of air.

"You'll share Mat's then," She said, turning away.

Mat returned and helped Kaelin back to his feet, steadying him with a pat on the back. "You're going to have to ride with me. That horse of hers won't let anyone but her near it." Kaelin glanced over at the woman, who sat stroking her mount and speaking to it softy. The stallion was large, larger than any he had seen, with a pure black coat that seemed to blend into the night. Mat climbed into his saddle, offering Kaelin a hand. Kaelin hardly noticed as he allowed himself to be pulled into the saddle, his body was still in shock, his mind overwhelmed.

The three of them headed on down the road, but didn't travel far before turning to the North, abandoning the open road and entering a section of the forest that was less densely vegetated. They rode for some time in silence, neither of his companions offered any explanation about where they were going. Kaelin wanted to ask -he had so many questions- but he couldn't manage to articulate them. He was simply overwhelmed; unable to absorb any more new information. His mind wandered, unable to process fully the events of this night. _A Fade, light I was almost killed by a Fade. _

They continued for several hours, moving deeper into the forest. Light from the new born sun began to brighten the tops of the trees, coloring the clouded sky a violent red, and birds began to announce the comings of morning. Morning in the Two Rivers; a site he had seen many times… it felt wrong now. It was the same, yet not. It was as if the familiarity of this morning only served to further highlight the nightmare that had only just passed that night.

His life here had ended, an innocence that he'd not known existed had been blown out like a candle. The land, in its refusal to acknowledge that momentous change, only made that change so much more profound. Kaelin felt himself begin to shake again, not from shock, but from terror. Terror of a life that had died, and of a new one; colder and more horrifying than he had ever imagined, that had been born. He tried to control himself, focusing on his breathing, concentrating on the soft rhythmic sound of the horses hoof beats. Soon he realized that Mat and Nynaeve were speaking, their voices hushed.

"…They'll have taken the village," Nynaeve was saying, her voice cold. "We'll find no safety there."

"I agree, but we can't just leave them-"

"And yet we have to, there is nothing we can do for them."

"Nynaeve-"

"It is no longer our home, Matrim, we left this place behind long ago. We do not owe those people anything, we have our mission. Our priorities lie with the boy."

Mat rode on in silence, but Kaelin could now feel the tension in the man.

They rode for a further hour, their path winding through the forest, sometimes they were forced to gallop across open fields where anyone, or anything, could spot them. Those moments were tense and Kaelin always expected to hear the hooting calls of Trollocs giving chase, but their luck held and they remained undiscovered. Their path took them north east, and began to steadily rise towards the mountains of Mist. Soon they were high enough to see over the trees behind. They reined in just before entering another stand of trees, the three of them sat on their mounts in silence. An orange red glow seemed to pulse from the east; still visible even in the new light of the dawn. _The village._ Even from this distance they could see the flames that ignited the sky, the entire village must be on fire to warrant such a display. Kaelin felt numb, unable to process the sight.

Nynaeve shook her head, turning away from the view and entering the forest. Mat paused a moment longer before turning their horse to follow.

"Where are we going?" Kaelin asked, finally finding his voice. It felt raspy, as if his throat had not touched water in a week, and yet he felt neither thirsty or hungry. There was just an overwhelming tiredness, all consuming, one that permeated through his skin and down into his bones.

"East." Was all Nynaeve replied.

Kaelin glanced over Mat's shoulder, to the steadily rising land before them, dotted with dense forests, and on up to the peaks of the mountains that rose to pierce the clouds. It was less than half a days ride through the forests of ever-leaf before they would be met with that impassable wall of rock and ice. "What; into the mountains?"

Nynaeve ignored him, wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself.

"I don't know if you two recall," Kaelin continued. "but there's nothing east of us but the Mountains of Mist, this far North they're basically unscalable."

"There is one other path we can take." Nynaeve said over shoulder.

"I've never heard of a pass this far North." Kaelin said with a frown. It was true, as far as he knew. He hadn't been this far North himself but it was common knowledge that the only pass to the east was the old quarry road, and that itself was as treacherous a road as they came, unusable by wagon or carriage. The mountains of the Mist extended north almost all the way to Saldea.

"I said path, not pass." She snapped.

"What's the difference." Kaelin said, feeling anger begin to replace his exhaustion. "For that matter, what is to the east, anyway?"

"That-" Nynaeve said. She pulled reins, her black stallion turning to face Kaelin. With the height of her mount she was almost at eye level. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "-is not for you to know. Not yet. All you need to know is that you are alive because of us, and you will stay that way only if you do exactly what I say, when I say. Do you understand?"

Kaelin met her eyes. This woman had thrown balls of fire at a Fade, he knew what she must be; Aes Sedai. They were spoken of in much the same way as a Fade or a Trolloc, creatures of the shadow some believed, though she had surely saved them all from the Fade. Whatever she was, he wanted nothing to do with her, and yet it seemed his fate now lay with her.

"The only thing I understand," He said through gritted teeth. "Is that my life has ended, left behind me amongst the ruins of dead Trollocs and a Fade. I don't know who you are, though I can guess what you are, but that hardly gives me any comfort. Why are you here? What am I to you?"

The look she gave him would have broken stone, but he held her gaze. He heard Mat sigh dramatically. "He's his parents child Nynaeve, believe me I bloody know. Look, we have some time. Best explain what we can."

Several more seconds of silence followed before Nynaeve closed her eyes. She seemed to be muttering to herself.

"Alright, we could all do with something to eat. Ask your questions, though I don't promise to answer everything, I will do what I can."


End file.
